The New Recruit
by Angel of Iego
Summary: Episode III era. Tarkin attempts to teach Darth Vader a lesson.


Tarkin put the glass of sherry down on his desk with gusto, as if he had finally made an important decision, but he said nothing. The man in front of him was far too free with his words to be trusted with Tarkin's opinion about anything, even if it was only about the new gruel they were serving the Stormtroopers or what Tarkin thought of the new repulsors on the X-Wing. It was too early, and Tarkin was too ambitious, to communicate his discontent to the Emperor, especially through this ridiculous, gossipy, little man. Perhaps once he had been promoted to Grand Moff, he would command the Emperor's ear with more authority and ease.   
  
"I do not understand it," Admiral Rayeth declared, standing with his hands behind his back in Tarkin's office. "He is the most stubborn, obnoxious human being I have ever had the pleasure of meeting."  
  
"The Emperor has a very high regard for him," Tarkin said quietly.  
  
"Yes, yes, I know. How else would he go from Major to General in a week?" Rayeth shook his head, his white hair flapping about his ears. "But it's like something out of a bad holo, my friend. He appears in my office one day out of the blue, asking how many men I have under my command to call off from the fight on Malastare. I thought he was some Separatist-friendly student from the University trying to play a cruel trick on me, but then the Emperor tells me that the dear lad is the new security advisor and that I should follow every damn word he says to the letter. And that I should address him from now on as Lord Vader. It is beyond me how that child could be Lord of anything."  
  
Tarkin narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to hide his own frustration with the new recruit's strange title. He was Vader's superior, thankfully, but, when it came down to it, Lord sounded a bit more distinguished than Admiral did. "Vader is obviously a very accomplished soldier," he said flatly. "And I have seen firsthand what a crafty pilot he can be. He has been very helpful so far in holding down the Separatists."  
  
Rayeth wide face turned slightly purple. "But he's a child, Tarkin. And he has no respect for anyone."   
  
Tarkin picked up his sherry and swirled the red liquid very deliberately. "You have not seen him with the Emperor."  
  
Rayeth's eyes flashed eagerly. "Oh? How does His Lordship behave when the Emperor is near? I bet he licks the old man's boots for him." He paused and made a gurgling noise in his throat, a laugh meant to be cocky and knowing, but instead sounding over-anxious and nervous. "If you want to know, Tarkin, I've heard that Lord Vader does a lot more for the Emperor than lick his boots, if you know what I mean."  
  
Tarkin got a very bad taste in his mouth; he was beginning to become sick of Rayeth's company. "Be careful, my friend," he said slowly. "Such accusations reflect worse on the Emperor than they do on Lord Vader."   
  
The other man looked somewhat cowed, which satisfied Tarkin for the moment.   
  
"As for Lord Vader," Tarkin continued, "he is as respectful to the Emperor as one would expect such a strange young man to be around a man whom he considers his superior."  
  
"The Emperor is the only man Lord Vader considers his superior," growled Rayeth, recovering as his rage flared up again.   
  
"Now, now, my friend, I do not think that is true. Lord Vader has respect for me and perhaps even for you, though that seems less likely. His behavior upsets you because I do not believe Lord Vader really undertands how to communicate with other sentient beings."  
  
Rayeth snorted. "That's true enough. I heard he tried to strangle Jinnoth for disagreeing with him about some Jedi policy."  
  
"He's a socially awkward young man, Rayeth, but he's a brilliant strategist, and surprisingly experienced for someone his age."  
  
Rayeth put his own glass of sherry down and leaned forward. He had fully recovered from Tarkin's previous scolding, and was ready for some new information. "How old is he, do you think? My secretary saw him, and thought he was a teenager."  
  
"I do not know, and I do not care," Tarkin said, and stood up slowly, signalling to his receptionist to dismiss the Admiral.   
  
Rayeth glanced at the receptionist without really seeing her, and turned back to Tarkin. "I've heard," he muttered under his breath, "that Lord Vader was recruited by the Emperor himself out of the Flight Academy, but I'm not sure I believe that."  
  
The corners of Tarkin's thin lips turned down in a restrained frown. He signalled to his receptionist again. "What isn't there to believe, Rayeth? Lord Vader understands military strategy, and he's a pilot."  
  
Rayeth shrugged and turned to leave, but just as he reached the threshold of the office door, he turned around. "I've heard things from sources that I know and trust, Tarkin. About Lord Vader before he turned up in my office that day. And he did not attend the Flight Academy."  
  
Tarkin took a swig of his sherry.  
  
Rayeth leered at him. "He's a Jedi, my friend. Our Lord is a runaway mind magician."  
  
Tarkin sniffed, amused. "And I'm a spice smuggler. Good evening, Rayeth."  
  
"It would explain a lot, if you ask me." Rayeth's voice rose defensively. Behind him, Tarkin's tall receptionist stood with her arms crossed, waiting.   
  
"Rayeth, Lord Vader is in charge of the Purge."  
  
There was a lost look in Rayeth's eyes. "What is the Purge?" he asked, "And how did Vader get put in charge of it?"  
  
Tarkin smiled. "Vader will tell you if you ask him, which you won't because he'd strangle you first. But believe me, Rayeth, he's no Jedi. Now, good evening, my friend."  
  
Rayeth nodded, the lost look still in his eyes. He followed the receptionist out the door, his shoulders somewhat slumped.  
  
Tarkin watched him leave, looking slightly amused. But as soon as the Admiral was out the door, Tarkin's face fell. He drained the rest of his sherry and put the glass down on his desk. He covered his thin face with his equally thin hands for a moment, and did not stir.  
  
He knew what to do about Lord Vader.   
  
***  
  
Tarkin did not see him at first.   
  
The Admiral had just come down the steps from the Senate Rotunda into the Outer Courtyard, and had found the weather to be surprisingly brisk. Tarkin pulled the chain of his cloak tighter, and squinted into the deep blue darkness, waiting for his eyes to adjust. Above him, the sky brimmed with stars.  
  
"Admiral Tarkin."  
  
In spite of himself, Tarkin jumped. Vader was standing next to him, looking up at the stars.  
  
"Lord Vader." Tarkin nodded curtly at him, saving face as best he could, though it all seemed in vain. Vader wasn't even bothering to look at him.  
  
Tarkin shifted, waiting for the young man to speak. He listened to the dull whir of speeder traffic overhead for a moment, and when Vader continued to refuse to speak, Tarkin conceded. "You have received my message, Lord Vader, and you are no doubt curious as to why I wished to speak with you," he said.  
  
"It is a strange time to request a meeting, Admiral," said Vader slowly. "And a strange place to hold it."  
  
"You have proven to have little regard for protocol, My Lord. I did not think you would object to such a meeting place."   
  
Vader smiled slightly, an expression that seemed oddly forced on him. Though, Tarkin thought, most expressions did. Vader's face appeared to be something that the young man was always working against, not with -- he never seemed to know what to do with it.  
  
"I do not object," Vader said. "I have not been here in a very long time."  
  
Tarkin looked at him hard. "You've been here before?"  
  
Vader said nothing. He continued to look fixedly at the darkened sky.  
  
Tarkin tried again. "You've been here before, My Lord."  
  
Vader turned, finally, and stared down at Tarkin. His eyes had a stange dullness to them, as if Vader was deliberately keeping the life out of them. Tarkin shivered and promptly attributed it to the cold.   
  
"What do you want, Admiral?" Vader asked.  
  
Tarkin spoke carefully, forcing himself to look into Vader's lifeless eyes. "I wanted to talk to you about your behavior, My Lord."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"I do not think you realize how much you have alienated many of the officers here."  
  
Vader slowly smiled.  
  
"And by officers, My Lord, I mean your commanding officers," said Tarkin.  
  
"I assumed so, Admiral. There are no other officers for me to alienate."  
  
"If there were, My Lord, I am sure you would find them."  
  
Vader did not smile. "What does this have to do with you, Admiral? Have I offended you in some way?"  
  
"I am not easily offended, Lord Vader, but there are several Admirals who are. They are beginning to find it difficult to work with you. And you have not been with us very long."  
  
"That is true." Vader appeared to be losing interest. The sky once again commanded his attention.   
  
Tarkin raised his voice in response. "Our organization is very young, Lord Vader."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I do not know how well it can handle internal strife."  
  
"I see."  
  
"It seems to me in the Empire's best interests then for you to try to show a little more respect when dealing with your superiors. Do you understand me, My Lord?"  
  
Vader said nothing. Tarkin was unprepared to repeat himself, but just as he was gearing up to do so, Vader looked at him again. "Admiral," he said, and paused again, his eyes wandering.  
  
Tarkin did his best to smile encouragingly, but he was reasonably certain it had come out a grimace. "My Lord?"   
  
"You will tell no one of this conversation?"  
  
"You mistake me for Admiral Rayeth, My Lord."  
  
Either Vader did not understand this gibe, or he did not care for it. Tarkin suspected the latter.   
  
"Admiral," Vader said, very slowly, as if there were lightyears between his mind and his mouth. "I do not care about the Empire."  
  
Tarkin frowned. "You serve the Emperor."  
  
The queer smile crept back on to Vader's face. "I do. But not because I care about the Empire."  
  
"I do not understand you."  
  
"Do you serve the Emperor because you care about the Empire, Admiral Tarkin?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Vader raised his eyebrows. "Why do you care about the Empire?"  
  
Tarkin felt like he was losing control of the situation. He was tempted to play his card now, but it seemed too early, and something about the way Vader spoke made him want to know more. "Because when I was your age, I realized that the Republic was falling apart, and I did not know how to save it. But when I met Palpatine, he helped me, just as he helped you, to see that the Republic did not need to be saved. It does not deserve to be saved, Lord Vader. When it is finally destroyed, you and I and the Emperor shall build a new order in its place, an order to withstand the forces of greed and corruption that decimated the Republic. And this new order, my friend, will change the face of the galaxy for all time."   
  
Vader looked so amused that Tarkin cut his speech short, annoyed at this arrogant boy's lack of interest.   
  
Vader smile turned into a laugh, forced and deliberate, but terribly effective in its own strange way. "You," Vader whispered, "are a liar."  
  
Tarkin stared.  
  
"A new order," said Vader through his smile, "is all well and good. But you are not such an idiot as to want one. You want the same thing my Ma -- the Emperor wants."  
  
"And what is that?"  
  
Vader turned and put both his hands on the garden railing in front of him, looking down into the dirt intently. "Power," he said. "It is not a new order; it is the same order, only this time you will be in charge of it."  
  
Tarkin realized his mouth was hanging open and closed it. He cleared his throat. "You are a very astute young man, Lord Vader."  
  
"You and the other officers are not a difficult breed to understand."  
  
"I wonder, then," Tarkin said, "if you are of the same breed. Are you here for power, Lord Vader? Or are your motivations somewhat different?"  
  
Vader seemed impressed by this; his smile faded away. "I am here for power, Admiral. But I also understand that the Republic and the Empire are not two separate things. They are simply different names for the same thing. Greed and corruption can live on for all I care -- I am not so naive as to believe that I can do away with them."  
  
Tarkin was beginning to catch on. "But," he added in, and waited for Vader to finish the phrase. Vader looked at him steadily, and said nothing. Tarkin sighed. "But," he said again, and reluctantly completed his own sentence, "there is one thing that you would change."  
  
Vader's gaze did not falter.   
  
Tarkin was annoyed that Vader was forcing him to complete his own thought. He would never understand the young man if he was continually forced to speak. "The Purge, My Lord."  
  
Vader smiled. "What do you know of the Purge, Admiral?"  
  
Tarkin smiled back. "That there is one Order, my friend, which can die without being replaced."  
  
Vader turned and looked at Tarkin, but the Admiral felt certain that Vader was looking right through him -- that the young General was searching his innards for some sort of a sign. "You are a clever man," Vader said finally.   
  
"Then I am correct? You are here because you want to destroy the Jedi, and the Emperor will let you do it."  
  
"The Emperor would do it himself, Admiral, if he wished to."  
  
"But he chose you to do it instead."  
  
"He did."  
  
Tarkin leaned forward. "Why do you think that is?"  
  
Vader did not look thrown off, but he moved away from the railing with a slight hesitancy. Tarkin was very pleased.   
  
Vader spoke, his voice calm and slow. "It is not for me to say, Admiral. If you are so concerned with the Emperor's doings perhaps you should talk to him."  
  
Tarkin smiled. "My Lord-- "  
  
"I shall consider your advice, Admiral, but I will never respect an officer who does not merit my respect." Vader moved away from him without another word, taking long strides towards the Senate steps.  
  
Tarkin steeled himself up and did what he had planned to do from the moment Rayeth left his chambers earlier that evening "I would not run away so quickly, if I were you, Anakin."   
  
Vader froze.   
  
Tarkin kept his eyes on the young man's back, disappointed that he could not see Vader's reaction to his words. "I have been hearing strange stories about you from the moment you arrived, but I never thought that your real story would prove to be even less believable than the rumors."  
  
Vader stood still as stone, a shadow in the darkness. Tarkin sincerely regretted not being able to see his face.  
  
"A Jedi who wants to annihilate his own kind," Tarkin shook his head and laughed, marvelling at how ridiculous the words sounded when put together. "And the apprentice of General Kenobi, no less. Quite the hero in the Wars; not a terrible role model for a bright youg person to have, if you ask me. And you want to kill him?"  
  
Vader turned slowly, but he didn't look at Tarkin. Instead, his dead eyes took in the stars above. There was tension in his face, however, that had not been there before. Tarkin's smile widened, and he advanced on his companion.  
  
"You were at the Battle of Geonosis. And you singlehandedly stopped the Trade Federation when you were nine-years-old. Impressive credentials, Anakin. It's a wonder you haven't mentioned these things earlier; perhaps you wouldn't have had to threaten so many officers to be taken seriously."  
  
He was now standing at Vader's side again, near the staircase.   
  
"I met you once before, Anakin. Do you remember Zonama Sekot?"  
  
Vader said nothing.  
  
"You were an odd little thing even then. I touched you and you burnt my hand. I thought to myself, now here is a boy who's going to go very far. And I was right, though I never expected to meet you here."  
  
Vader met Tarkin's stare and held it. His voice was soft and steely. "This is ancient history."  
  
"Now, now, Anakin, we cannot understand the present if we do not understand the past. And this history is hardly ancient."  
  
Vader's eyes dropped.   
  
Tarkin continued slowly, savoring every word. "The thing that really bewilders me, though, my friend, beyond all this, is that you're married to Senator Padme Amidala, the leader of the Rebellion against the Empire. Perhaps the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Which leads me to the question I've been meaning to ask you since I realized who you really are -- what in the world are you doing here?"  
  
"Listening to you tell me stories about a dead man."   
  
"For a dead man, you look remarkably well," Tarkin said, but then he saw the dull eyes and stopped, unsure.  
  
Vader smiled blandly. "What do you want from me, Admiral?"  
  
"I want my questions answered, Anakin. And I want to warn you to be a bit more careful with your secrets."  
  
"I have been very careful," Vader said, "with Anakin Skywalker's secrets. Which is why I find your knowledge about his wife to be rather surprising."  
  
Tarkin smiled. "I didn't come across that piece of information in a public file, if that is what you're asking. Your secret marriage will not be plastered over the holonet anytime soon, my friend. Unless, of course, you do manage to finally offend me."  
  
"You have no comprehension of what you're doing, Tarkin. You aren't going to be able to blackmail me."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Vader leaned forward, and his face became still, as if it were a mask covering something unspeakable. Tarkin felt a strange tingling in his throat. "I am not the man I used to be, Tarkin. Perhaps he would have submitted to you, but I will not."  
  
Tarkin did not respond; he was finding it strangely difficult to breathe.  
  
"I do remember you from Zonama Sekot, Tarkin. You were in over your head then, as well."  
  
Tarkin looked down, and saw that Vader's hand was curled tightly, clenched around the air. His throat tightened and he gagged.  
  
"I am murdering Jedi, Admiral, because the Jedi need to be murdered, as you've said. Anakin Skywalker was the first Jedi I killed, and believe me, Tarkin, he needed to die."  
  
Suddenly, the pressure on Tarkin's windpipe relaxed. He took a large, shuddery breath and stared Vader down. He was not frightened by this runaway mind magician -- he was not afraid of anything.  
  
Vader laughed suddenly and shook his head. "Anakin would not have liked you at all, Admiral. But I do. Just remember that I do not have much appreciation for ancient history."  
  
Tarkin refused to let Vader win. "I thought they were just two different names for the same thing, eh, Anakin, My Lord?" he whispered hoarsely.   
  
Vader stopped smiling abruptly.   
  
"New things can never fully replace the old, or so you say," Tarkin continued, his hand on his throat. He turned on his heel and did not look back as he left the courtyard.  
  
Behind him, Vader was looking at the stars.  
  
***  
  
Tarkin collapsed on to a low coach in his apartment and shut his eyes for a moment, his heart pounding in his ears. That meeting had not gone the way he had expected it to. He wanted to strangle Vader, wipe the false smile off his false face, and finally see exactly who and what the new recruit really was.   
  
As he was turning these thoughts over in his head, his comlink blinked. Without thinking, Tarkin flipped it out and turned it on.   
  
The Emperor materialized in front of him. Tarkin sat up rigidly and cleared the sour expression off his face.  
  
"Your Highness," he said.  
  
The Emperor's face was obscured by a hood, but Tarkin thought he detected a sympathetic look in the shadows. "My friend, you look unwell," the Emperor said.  
  
"I have had a very long day, Your Highness."  
  
"Have you done as I asked then?"  
  
Tarkin sighed. "Yes, Your Highness. Though I do not see what I have accomplished in doing so. I told him what you told me, and he didn't give a damn."  
  
The Emperor smiled. It was an expression that reminded Tarkin of Vader. "Lord Vader needs to be taught a lesson in obediance, my friend. I think you have helped him to see that nothing he holds is safe from me."  
  
"I am honored that you trusted me enough to tell me Lord Vader's history, Your Highness."  
  
"You are an excellent servant, Tarkin. Come to my office in the morning. Grand Moff Hull is retiring, and I think I have found an excellent candidate to take his place."  
  
Tarkin's smile was genuine.  
  
***  
  
The stars were brighter than they had been in a long time. Vader looked up at them solemnly, ignoring the chill that was creeeping into his hands.  
  
He loved the stars, even now.  
  
(I want to be the first one to see them all)  
  
They made him think about ancient history.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 


End file.
